


Young Snakes

by limeta



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Past Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Slytherin Pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23733691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limeta/pseuds/limeta
Summary: Albus Dumbledore gets sorted into Slytherin.
Relationships: Aberforth Dumbledore & Albus Dumbledore & Ariana Dumbledore, Abraxas Malfoy/Tom Riddle, Portrait Salazar Syltherin & Albus Dumbledore
Comments: 23
Kudos: 94





	1. Albus Dumbledore

Sometimes, the changes a person can make are very small and almost unnoticeable.

A halfblood being sorted into Slytherin in 1892, for instance, proves no cause for great change. Not necessarily. It is to be treated as any halfblood before or after to come and have the ideals of cunning, self-preservation, and ambition instilled in them. What makes this sorting so infamous and very noticeable, however, lies in the identity of the boy being sorted.

His name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and the Hat shouts: **_SLYTHERIN_ **.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore still excels at transfiguration. Spellwork burns at his fingertips that hold his wand. It never takes him more than three tries to get even the most difficult spell right. Professors notice him. His peers notice him. Albus finds that it is good to be noticed. He becomes lauded.

The difference being, however, in this world where Albus goes in Slytherin is that they teach students different things in each House. In the bold and brave House of Gryffindor they teach students about fighting for what they believe in, that vanquishing evil doers and dark wizards is expected of them as proud members of the magical world.

In House Slytherin, where things have to be less obvious than that, there are different rules. Because there are different values instilled in students. They teach students in Slytherin that Gryffindors die for causes, that Gryffindors are bold and brave and witless. A true Slytherin will calculate and only enter a duel when he is certain he will win.

Or she, depending if the dueller is a girl. Irma Crabbe has a pair of lungs on her and she wishes to be included in every conversation. She calls Albus' mother a mudblood because this is what she is. To these people blood only matters.

This isn’t something that they teach in any other house. But even Albus knows that blood is the most important thing when it comes to Slytherin.

* * *

The art of parseltongue is revered. It is not the tongue of evil, but the tongue the fairies have bestowed upon the chosen. Of course, it is very illegal and the only family that can speak is the Gaunt family who have degraded themselves over decades of inbreeding and secrecy. They are the direct descendants of Salazar Slytheirn.

Their Head of House teaches them that since the Statute of Secrecy, more and more spells are being unfairly regulated. ‘’You cannot condemn people for being able to speak a language. The belief that snakes are evil stems from the muggleborns as they have brought this belief from their religion and spread it like a plague across all magical communities. This is why Slytherin was against muggleborns coming to Hogwarts. The mere idea of them infecting the real witches and wizards with their beliefs was too much to bear. Their perverted thoughts and warping ideals have no place in the magical world.’’

People burn holes in the back of Albus’ head as they stare at him and wait for his reaction. His mother is a mudblood and his sister is a squib. Or so they call her. Albus doesn’t know what Ariana is. He keeps his head down and bites his tongue because he has to be with these people for years. All he does in retaliation to their expectation is dip his quill in an inkwell and write what their Head of House is teaching.

They don’t harass him because he brings them points and because his father is a pureblood. For now this is enough.

* * *

Aberforth comes to Hogwarts. The Hat shouts for all to hear and rejoice: ‘’GRYFFINDOR!’’

Albus watches as his younger brother goes to the farthest table from his and sits down in a merry bunch of red. Irma Crabbe tactlessly asks: ‘’Does this mean you’re not on speaking terms?’’

It apparently does. Aberforth doesn’t want to be seen with a Slytherin unless it’s at a secret meeting place. Albus has to bloody find the Room of Requirement to talk to his childish and insecure brother. He has seen what peer pressure does and he will try his best to respect his brother’s wishes. But they do have to go through the motions once a week.

‘’Mother has written me to ask after your health.’’ Albus says, rather peeved to have to take care of his family even outside of the family home. He misses being the only Dumbledore at Hogwarts. He misses being the only halfblood prodigy. Aberforth is incredible at potions; it’s what he gets from their mother.

‘’Tell mum that I am as right as rain.’’ Aberforth is blushing, seemingly embarrassed to be talking about these sorts of things. A man’s pride is wounded only when _caring_ is a vice. Slytherins rarely have the time for such weaknesses. Family means everything.

‘’Ariana has written me to ask why you are not answering her letters.’’ This is the last straw for Albus. Impatience is his vice. He waves Ariana’s letter and slaps Aberforth’s nose with it. His younger brother screams, his nose as red as his badge. Albus asks: ‘’Why are you not answering our _sickly_ sister’s letters, Abe?’’ He has little patience for people who are rude to his sister. 

Aberforth fumes and clasps his hands into tight fists that want nothing more than to lodge deep into Albus until he screams. He sees the fire in his brother’s eyes. ‘’They shall _tease_ me.’’

‘’Write your bloody sister, Abe. She has no other entertainment and she cares. How do you think ignoring her makes her feel?’’

Aberforth shrugs. He turns away in shame, nonetheless. Good. At least he still has some sense left. Albus begins walking towards the door, but the next words make him stop dead in his tracks.

‘’You are colder here.’’ Aberforth calls out. It is as if cold water has been poured through the back of his robe.

Albus has not noticed. He cranes his head to the side to see Aberforth, smaller and prouder, but still as observant. ‘’I-‘’

‘’At home you are never this guarded.’’

‘’Home is different.’’

‘’Tell mother I am well. When we meet I will write Ariana here and you can send the owl with your letters. It will cost less. I do not need money, tell her this. Father will be happy to hear.’’

Albus nods. He is still dizzy from the revelation. It is different at Hogwarts. They are boys growing into men here, whilst at home they are with their parents and sister.

* * *

Ariana’s letters are the highlight of his week. She writes him every day, but she sends the letters once a week because they do not want to tire their family owl. Father uses it for business and mother uses it to purchase potion ingredients.

**Dear Al,**

**It is the same.**

All of her letters begin like this. There is no miraculous recovery to her sickness, but there is no steep downfall either. The status quo is something they all know how to deal with. Albus wishes to escape the status quo of his life. When he finishes Hogwarts he’ll leave and go far away to the ends of the Earth and learn magic that will leave him breathless and in awe.

**I miss you and Abe both. Mum says she is going to make fish for lunch today. Father has caught some. I ask him to go fishing, but he says it is too tiring an activity. Why does everyone act like I cannot do anything? I want to see what I can do, but no one will allow me to try. This hurts far more than my untamed magic does, Al.**

**Your sister sends love and lots of food. Look, mum and I made it. Well, she made it and I handed her things.**

**Ariana Dumbledore**

Albus looks at the letter and gnaws on the care package his mother has sent. He hands out the food among his peers.

‘’Did the mudblood make this?’’

‘’My sister.’’

‘’I suppose it is all right then.’’ A halfblood has better breeding and shall not poison the food. They eat and praise his mother’s cooking without even knowing it. ‘’Tell your sister she is amazing.’’

‘’I will.’’

* * *

His mother is sick.

Aberforth and he stop meeting in secret. They need to go through this sort of thing together.

‘’She has to get better.’’ Aberforth grabs hold of Albus’ robe and tugs at the sleeve, feeling like a little boy in that moment. Albus looks at him and finds that his tongue has turned to ash. He has no idea.

His younger brother continues like a child he is. ‘’Tell me she will get better. Please, please. It is not like Ariana’s sickness.’’

‘’No, it is not.’’ Albus knows this much. Their mother is a witch with a wand and a good grasp on her magic. Her own magic is not eating her from the inside out like Ariana suffers.

‘’I do not know if she will get better, Aberforth.’’

Cold. He is so cold here. Much colder than at home with his mind-ill father and his magic-ill sister and now his ill mother.

Aberforth shouts: ‘’How can you say such a thing? Snake! You **are** cruel like all of the other snakes.’’ He takes out his wand and demands for those words to be taken back.

Albus looks at the tip of his brother’s wand and gently tells him, because he is tired and he wants everything to be well, but if his mother dies he will – he will … father is unstable. He cannot take care of Ariana. Aberforth has Hogwarts. Then it only leaves. Albus’ stomach churns in utter discomfort. He wishes to throw up.

At some point, Albus does not remember, he is embracing Aberforth and letting him cry into his chest. His fingers are curling around his robe and gripping it as if his strength is made out of steel. ‘’She _cannot_ die.’’ Aberforth believes something that all children do: mothers are immortal and incapable of dying.

The Room of Requirement lets them be. It is peace and privacy that they require.

* * *

Not long after this moment, Albus is called to come to the Headmaster’s office. Irma Crabbe shouts at him that this is the moment he is to be expelled. Posy Parkinson snickers. Horace Slughorn shrugs and says that he thinks it could be a reward. Albus is unrivalled in transfiguration.

Going up from the dungeons to the Headmaster’s office takes a good walk. For those who are not familiar with the upper side of Hogwarts, the stairs are a nightmare to navigate. There are tricks, however, that help Slytherins get high up.

Inside the Headmaster’s office there are Headmaster Dippet and Deputy Headmistress Merrythought. They greet him amicably and ask him to take a seat.

‘’What has happened?’’ Dread pools in his chest and spreads like contagion. He takes the seat reluctantly. His legs are numb and his fingers are shaking so he clasps them together with his other, equally shaky hand. ‘’Is it my mother? Has she passed?’’

No, then Aberforth would be here. A death in the family is always told to all students belonging to the family. This rules out Ariana, too.

Professor Merrythought regards him with pity. Albus hates it, but he has grown used to it so he will endure it for answers. ‘’Headmaster, _please_ –‘’

‘’Your father is awaiting trial where he most likely will be sentenced to Azkaban.’’ Dippet is a Ravenclaw, himself, so he does not dilly dally.

Professor Merrythought, the current Head of Hufflepuff and greatest dueller in their school, tells him gently that they think it is best to tell him until the trial passes. ‘’Aberforth is younger and this will only addle him. You understand?’’

Albus’ head is swimming with thoughts about his ill mother and his sister that understands things all too well. This may be terrible for her. His breath is short.

‘’Why?’’ His voice is too small.

‘’He has attacked muggles. This sort of behaviour is frowned upon, as you know. ‘’This next part they both deliberate whether to tell him, but Merrythought does. ‘’Your father has used an unforgivable on them, Mr. Dumbledore.’’

His knees are gelatine. He refuses to cry in front of them. So, he asks, knowing that his voice will break when he does: ‘’Do you know why he did that, professor?’’

‘’They attacked your sister, I think.’’ Merrythought runs a hand through her auburn hair to jog her memory. She looks to Dippet for aid.

‘’Yes, and while this is dreadful – it is no place to retaliate with force against muggles.’’

Albus knows why they speak like this. They do not know how sickly Ariana is, how scared she is all of the time, how fragile. He is breathing quickly and shallowly. This is horror. His heart hurts him. His lungs are aflame. His head is splitting him open.

* * *

They call his Head of House to comfort him.

It is too bright up there where the sun scorches upon all activities and thoughts and words. Down, in the dungeons, there are lights filtering through the lake, but it is muted and much easier to think and breathe.

The Slytherin Head of House is a hawk-eyed woman named Professor Ermina Shafiq.

‘’My father will go to Azkaban.’’ Albus is in her office and she offers him a sweet for his troubles. It tastes bitter. He looks inquisitively at her and she says that she likes lemons because not many eat those sweets.

‘’It is a shame, yes. He is a good wizard. Undisciplined, of course. All who allow rage to cloud their judgement are.’’

‘’My sister is sickly and they attacked her.’’ Albus is reeling from that. Attack can mean many things. What have they done to his little sister, a girl who has never done anything wrong, yet seems to be paying tenfold for deeds that are not hers to pay for? ‘’My father would only do such a thing in self-defence. Can they see that? Can the judge understand that?’’

‘’An unforgivable is unforgivable, Mr. Dumbledore.’’

‘’It is wrong.’’ Albus’ life is falling apart underneath him. An abyss has snapped its jaw open and is enveloping him inch by inch. His head is dizzy. He cannot see an inch in front of his face. ‘’How… why…’’

Professor Shafiq gives him a calming draught and orders him to take it. If he should go to the infirmary it will garner questions from his peers. It will put into question the House. ‘’Drink.’’

Albus drinks.

* * *

Ariana is alive. She does not want to send letters, writes their mother, it is not the same.

Aberforth is angry. Albus is angry. They are shouting at each other and then at their father and then at their lives.

* * *

Albus remembers looking at the portrait of his Founder and wondering what he thinks of on a daily basis. Does he spare a single thought to the Slytherin family, or the fact that none of them have entered these revered halls in generations?

He is caught staring and the portrait raises a brow, as if tempting the boy to speak.

So he does. Never one to shy away from a challenge. ''Good evening, sir.''

''I was no knight.''

''Lord Slytherin.''

The man's lips quirk upwards. ''Nor was I a lord. This is what they forget.'' He fans Albus’ next attempt to speak away, too disgusted with people to give them another thought: ''What troubles a bright mind like yourself so late in the evening, or early in the morning. It depends on one's perspective.''

Salazar Slytherin rarely speaks with students. He only speaks to seventh years and Albus finds himself feeling ordinary. He is in his last year, a man of age who can apparate and go to the farthest regions of the world if he so wishes.

''I...'' Albus is terrified. This is something he will rarely admit. He hasn't dared speak to his Gryffindor brother out of shame, or his sickly sister, or his sickly mother, or his imprisoned father. ''I am scared.''

''Good. Fear will stop you from dying mindlessly. Good night, or good morning. It really does depend. I wish Rowena's portrait was nearby.'' Salazar Slytherin is tired. He is full of wisdom and Albus needs someone to tell him what to do. All of this is eating at him. His mother may soon die and leave him with children. But he wants to go. He wants to go far away and never turn back to the world that calls his family blood traitors and deviants.

''My mother will die.''

''All mothers die.'' Salazar Slytherin scoffs, purposefully being unhelpful and banal. ''Did you know I did not want to make this school here? Fairies have claim here. All I have given Helga and the others was a thousand years. Our years are minutes for them, it is nothing. But parselmouths are dying out. There are pogroms for my kind. Muggles started them, but it is mages that continued them.'' Salazar Slytherin's face twitches in a snarl. ''This school is not for long. So, graduate and guard your family. Whatever ails you will pale in comparison for when the fairies come back to their bartered home.''

How much of this is prophecy or hogwash, Albus does not know. He does continue his plight, because seventeen year olds are self-absorbed. ''I want to have my own life. I'm great!'' The shout startles him. ''Why can't I see the world because of my parents?'' His hands are shaking. He himself is shaking in whole.

Salazar Slytherin peers at him closely, letting him rant and shudder and even cry. After Albus calms, the Founder speaks, his voice leaving no room for argument: ''Do you love your family?''

''Yes, of course.'' Albus loves his mother, his sister, his brother, and even his imprisoned father.

''Then why would you betray them so? If they need your help and have not harmed you or betrayed your trust – why would you become a blood traitor? Your parents have given you enough time. You have had a childhood, have you not?''

Albus nods, holding eye contact with the portrait.

''You have had enough time to realise that your future is elsewhere – but you will live long, child.''

''You call me a child yet you teach me not to be one.''

''I killed at fourteen. It was commonplace in my time. You are a child, but you are an adult. A mother will always see a son as a babe.''

''I do not want to sacrifice my life for them.''

''You have a duty.'' Salazar scoffs, again. ''Not yet, maybe not for a long time. But you have a duty as the eldest. You will clothe your siblings and you will aid them and you will feed them.''

''Shouldn't I go follow my ambition?''

''I did.''

Albus waits. He scratches his palms in anticipation.

Salazar trails off. ''I think... that love is the greatest ambition. You will be great, of course you will be. You look like you can take on the world if you so desire, young snake.''

''Thank you.''

''But what is a snake without other snakes to warm it in winter? It either becomes a pet or it dies. Or it suffers. Or maybe it adapts. Snakes do tend to be fickle things. They ask for very little. Nothing like us. We ask for everything, yet we give nothing in return. Give, young snake, give to your family. Do not just _take_ and _take_ and _take_ and expect to be given all.'' The man begins speaking in parseltongue then.

''Er, thank you. Goodbye. Good night.''

''Night.'' The man laughs. ''So you are that kind of person. It is daytime, look!''

Sure enough when Albus glances toward the window overlooking into the lake he sees traces of sunlight.

* * *

Albus graduates with lauds and gets many masters lining up to have him as an apprentice. He stays near Godric's Hollow to help his mother. He could have gone to warm Spain or the beautiful Americas, but he chooses to stay and learn from an Englishwoman.

His mother thanks him. She lets it slip one evening when both Aberforth and Ariana are asleep, that she cannot do this on her own as she is.

‘’I am grateful to you, my dear, dear Albus.’’ When she kisses him, Albus does not know it is his last kiss with his mother. Else he would have savoured it. Now it only haunts him.

* * *

Kendra Dumbledore dies.

Albus is alone with a hot headed brother and a sister without control over herself.

He cries for his mother and father, but he will not abandon his family. He will not freeze like a snake in winter, all alone, resourceless. He will not let his family freeze in winter because of his adaptability, furthermore.

* * *

They teach students in Slytherin that they must weigh their options and must choose not what they believe in, what they want more than anything, but that which will give them peace of mind and power over their more impulsive actions.

Gellert wants to burn the world.

Albus quite enjoys the world.

Gellert wants to enslave the muggles that have made Albus fatherless and his sister traumatized.

Albus wants to make them all regret ever thinking they exceeded the place of a mage, but he knows that helping his sister get better is more important. His mother has begged him to take care of his siblings and he will not betray that trust.

Gellert wants Albus to come with him, for them to become masters of Death. Albus knows that too much power can ruin one's mind. He has nightmares of the day he ever lets himself become blinded by power.

A Slytherin knows self-preservation. So, Albus does not answer anything. He kisses Gellert and makes the other forget he's ever asked him anything.

Aberforth and Gellert fight. But since Gellert is arrogant he humiliates his brother and does not go farther with the game.

Ariana and Gellert are friends. He teaches her his native tongue and helps her pick herbs for her potioneering. He slowly draws her out of her shell and she is all too grateful to see. Albus is all too grateful to cut ties with him, because there is something wrong in him; something that undisciplined like within his father who is in Azkaban still and does not write.

One day, Gellert takes Ariana fishing near the pond and she _laughs_.

Albus cannot remember the last time he’s heard his sister laugh. Aberforth hates that he has made her laugh, because he is the only one that sees Gellert for the person he is going to become.

But when Gellert keeps pushing and pushing and pushing for an answer, Albus tells him that he cannot leave his family. ''I – they're so young, Gellert. They have no one.'' There is no resentment in that tone. He has been coming to terms with this since the talk with the Founder.

Gellert understands and he reluctantly leaves. ''I will wait for you. But I cannot stay here. I am destined to be great.''

They kiss and then they part.

* * *

When Albus realises what Gellert has turned into he only needs to look at Aberforth, his brother who has never been fond of Gellert, to know that he has dodged the killing curse with that one.

Ariana sings a song to the goats Aberforth keeps and the music fills the room. The music is magic, because it makes both brothers feel calm.

Whoever calls their sister a squib will face dire consequences. Let this be known.

* * *

Gellert sends him letters.

Albus answers the letters.

Though, sometimes he becomes stumped as to how to reply. So he asks his family for help.

''What's a good excuse to use this time?''

''Have you used Aberforth being ill?''

''Yes. He wished him to get well soon and I said that he has gotten well.''

''Have you used Ariana being ill?''

''Yes, yes. He's actually asked me to come with her to go to an experimental healer on the continent. It was most generous, but I would not subject my sister to go for a lie.''

''Of course not.'' Ariana smiles. ''It is kind of him.''

''Kindness to those he knows does not substitute cruelty to those who do not deserve it.'' Albus seethes. Aberforth nods. Ariana hums.

* * *

He gets a choice, respected as he is, to go study abroad to the Flamels or to stay in Britain and teach at Hogwarts.

It does not take him a lot to figure out what he wants to do. He misses someone from Hogwarts, even if they’ve only had one conversation. It is an important conversation that has helped him see things and come to understand his position. It is not ungrateful, but at the same time it is not what he has envisioned for himself.

His time will come. Albus will see the world and show it that he is great and worth pouring one’s trust into.

‘’Will you write Gellert?’’ Ariana asks.

‘’I have already.’’ Albus waves the letter. He will send it via owl first thing tomorrow morning to tell Gellert once and for all that he chooses his siblings over him. That he cannot string him along by making him wait; that he wishes him well on his journey and hopes what little humanity he has left in him will not dissipate in full.

Aberforth thinks that they ought to sell the family home for one in Hogsmeade. This one only brings them saddened and sickly memories.

‘’I looked and there’s a good one in Hogsmeade.’’ The younger brother is a man now, isn’t he – and he knows what he wants in life. ‘’I could make a pub there. Call it the Hog’s Head.’’

Ariana and Albus are looking at him in dire silence. He continues, feeling self-conscious. ‘’I have thought this through. Asked around even. It has got enough room for the both of you. It is a good location. Hogsmeade weekends could bring in profit. I can do this.’’

‘’Do it.’’ Ariana tells him before Albus has a chance to say _anything_.

So, Aberforth does.

So, Albus becomes a professor.

So, Ariana lives.

* * *

Horace is Head of House. It’s alliterative like that. Albus doesn’t mind. He still manages to sneak into the Common Room before any of the students arrive. The portrait is there and recognizes him, though vaguely. His memory is faulty.

‘’Young snake. Reddened by grief. Good afternoon, or is it just noon?’’

Albus looks at the wristwatch given to him by the Englishwoman master and it is directly one minute after noon. ‘’Afternoon, esteemed Slytherin.’’

He snaps his fingers and hisses something. It is a shame; he has heard from recent Slytherin alumni that their Founder is forgetting English.

‘’Are you here to teach?’’

‘’I am!’’ Albus straightens himself up and puffs his chest out. He is wearing a robe that he has spent a lot of money on. Too much money. He’s going to live like a monk until his first paycheck.

Salazar hums. He smiles at Albus’ happiness, glad to see him successful: ‘’I have seen many professors, very intelligent, very knowledgeable –few wise. Wisdom comes with age, yes, but also when you actually listen. Do not be the kind of professor that knows things just by looking. _Listen_. Children are kinder than they appear to be. Annoying, very much.’’ The face Slytherin makes elicits a bubbling laugh out of Albus. Salazar is repulsed. ‘’But they are kind. Do not mistake their self-preservation for cruelty.’’

Albus nods. The Founder’s last advice to him has changed his life and this one may as well, too. He will heed it.

* * *

Dippet is ancient. How that man is still alive leaves both Horace and Albus flabbergasted.

They ask him what his key to longevity is.

He tells them that minding his own business is the greatest key to a happy and long life.

Fair enough, both Slytherins think. 

Dippet opens a bottle of whisky for them all to enjoy.

Deputy Headmistress Merrythought sings Gaelic songs from her homeland.

Hogwarts welcomes them with open arms.

* * *

Teaching is rewarding.

It really is.

Albus isn’t just saying that to stop himself from spelling an unruly student’s mouth silent for the remainder of the week. He’s not!

* * *

Professor Merrythought is ancient, too. Not like Dippet, but she still is. Albus remembers her as his teacher. She’s inkling to retire, but there’s nobody she likes enough to hand the torch to – so she stays.

Nobody dares to antagonize the Hufflepuffs because Merrythought is a terrifying force. That hasn’t changed. Albus thinks Ariana could be a Hufflepuff. She isn’t nearly as stuck up as all of the Ravenclaws are.

Filius Flitwick is a professional dueller. What he’s doing in a school fails to crystallize itself to them until he says that he’s always loved the idea of teaching and having a duelling club of his own. So, he and Merrythought make one together.

Their duels are **_legendary_ **.

Albus gets dragged into them. It is an attempt to set an example of proper duelling etiquette for the students.

Most of the students actually begin taking him seriously when he manages to disarm Merrythought.

She laughs good-naturedly and pats him on the back, but they both know what that means. It means Albus is, yet again, very good at something that he wishes he isn’t.

‘’Professor Dumbledore, you were amazing!’’

‘’Sir, you are an incredible dueller.’’

‘’Sir, do you think you could win against Professor Flitwick – he is a _professional_ dueller.’’

Filius is game. Albus is not. If he never duels it will be too soon. Duelling is spectacularly loud and too much of a way of showboating to enjoy. 

* * *

Gellert is a monster.

* * *

Albus has made it a habit to talk to the esteemed Slytherin once a month. Horace easily supplies him with the passwords, though he makes Albus promise to not forget about him when he makes it big. Albus promises not to,though he hardly believes Horace is solely dependent on his fame with the way he collects students as if they are tokens. 

‘’Ssalutations.’’ Salazar Slytherin is lapsing from parseltongue to english more and more. Horace has to remind him to speak it when he asks if he has seen any unruly students who have escaped detention. His painting is chipping away. They bring restorers, but they say that it is magical corrosion. The painting will remain, but there will come a time when the subject will barely move. 

Ariana has taken up painting, Aberforth tells him. One entire wall in her bedroom talks because she has painted lords and ladies from her Jane Austin novels. She knows that all paintings stop being magic at a certain point. It is normal. 

Albus looks at Salazar Slytherin and greets him with what he can only hope is a good enough smile that hides all of the weight he is forced to lift: ‘’How do you do, esteemed Slytherin!’’

It is not good enough. ‘’What troubles a young snake?’’ Salazar waves his arms in the portrait, gesticulates madly, and enters his own monologue: ‘’Can it be love that ails you? Your mother has died, yes, I recall. Your sister’s magic is eating her heart, this I know, too. Your brother mayhaps has died of alcohol poisoning?’’

Albus shakes his head no and laughs, not being able to help himself. 

Salazar’s brown eyes widen and he does as best as he can to point at Albus. ‘’You feel guilty to love. You ruminate on one who is still living, but you wish not. You said no to love once and now you think that you cannot love ever again. Find someone. Love. I thought the same when they killed my first wife and cut the tongues of my children and showed them to me. Never to speak our cursed tongue, never to corrupt, never to ensnare, never to - there are too few of us, too few, too few.’’ Salazar begins shaking in his portrait. His eyes are wide and if a portrait is capable of shredding his own portrait this may come to be a good attempt. ‘’They want to kill us all, they have killed us all. In years, years, centuries I have not spoken my tongue.’’ Then he lapses into parseltongue and he is loud and full of agony. 

Albus tries to calm him, to get through to him, feeling a deep pit in his stomach. It unnerves him to see Slytherin like this. A figure in his life that has always had the answer and even been a sort of surrogate father. This is painful. 

Through the parseltongue, a few english words peek through: ‘’Fairies. Hogwarts. Too few, too few. They want to kill us all.’’

‘’Please, are you all right? Can I help you?’’ Albus is whispering, too worried to speak in a louder voice. 

Salazar’s intense eyes land on him and he hisses, half in parseltongue and half in english. It takes Albus a moment to understand, but the next time he bolts for the exit: **_‘’LEAVE! DO NOT COME BACK.’’_ **

* * *

Albus buries himself in work.

When an opportunity strikes he goes to visit Aberforth and Ariana. They are well.  
  
Horace doesn’t mention anything about Salazar Slytheirn’s behaviour.

* * *

A great honour befalls him and, without really expecting this sort of thing, Albus accepts. He is Deputy Headmaster now.

The first person he wants to give the good news to is someone he is now afraid of approaching. So, instead, he goes out celebrating with Filius and Horace. They make for a good bunch in Aberforth’s bar where Ariana sings folk songs while they heartily accompany her. 

His younger brother has begun keeping goats for company. Albus really hopes he finds someone to replace this Gellert sized hole with an actual person … and not a goat. He is not getting a goat. Ariana is pointing at a goat and telling him all about it, on purpose: ‘’He looks like he is your type.’’

Albus refuses to fancy goats. He’s a homosexual, damn it. Only men with questionable ideas for him. 

Aberforth lovingly pats one of the goats.

Albus pours himself another beer. ‘’What I cannot remember cannot haunt me.’’

Ariana drinks one as well. 

Horace and Filius are debating theory in slurred words. 

* * *

He’s drunk. This is the only way Albus can explain why he breaks into the Slytherin Common Room in the middle of the night. Salazar Slytherin’s portrait is asleep. It has been a whole year since their last chat. It ought to be enough time for things to mend between them. Time heals all wounds, and whatever else nonsense people like to spew. 

Like a giddy schoolboy he wants to greet his friend: ‘’Esteemed Slytherin, how do you do? I have great news to share.’’ He is beaming and fumbling. His life is finally going how he has expected it to.

The portrait looks at him and hisses.

This will change. He hisses more and more, but he always remembers to speak English after a time. Albus continues talking, certain that his friend will catch up soon. ‘’I’ve become...’’Albus snorts and snickers and watches for the furniture in case his staggering leads to injury, ‘’Deputy Headmaster at your illustrious and beautiful school,’’ he tries to bow, but he manages to bow further than anticipated and hits his head against the nametag underneath the portrait. ‘’Fuck.’’

He goes on further to explain that he will take care of this school as if it is his home, and then he amends at Salazar’s curious expression, that this most certainly _is_ his home. It is, also, an incredible honour to do this job. He will love every minute of it. And then he thanks Slytherin for everything he’s done for Albus. There are tears in his eyes and he is blubbering. It is most undignified. 

Another hiss. Albus raises his head and notices that Salazar is looking at him how he has when they’ve first met. As if they’ve just met. 

‘’Esteemed Slytherin?’’ Albus quietly asks, too worried for the answer, horrified to find out that his worry is well placed. 

Salazar Slytherin only hisses as response. In his eyes there is no recognition. 


	2. Tom Riddle

Tom Riddle looks at him and his thoughts are loud. The child’s mind is unguarded. Albus glances back from the boy towards the drunk matron eyeing him with suspicion. He does not blame her for her prejudice or her hope to whisk this problem child away. Albus considers himself and his whole life cursed, so why should he not be in charge of other cursed hell-spawns?

’’Madame,’’ he smiles and there are twinkles when she looks into his eyes; it has become easier to conjure twinkles to confuse people with than to actually summon the necessary vocabulary to speak to people anymore, ’’would you be very kind to fetch me a glass of water?’’

Mrs. Cole looks quite miffed and disappointed to be asked to fetch water. It is not a drink she usually takes, it appears.

Albus looks back to the child in question and can hear the wariness slithering off of him in abundance, pooling at his feet, and crawling towards Albus. He smiles. The child’s magic tempers, but only so Albus doesn’t sense it as easily. It is still there; it is still wary; it is very much not what any child ought to exhibit.

’’Hello, young chap.’’ Albus tries to get the conversation rolling. It is, of course, a very futile attempt because Tom Riddle doesn’t want to speak to him. Albus decides to dwell deeper into his mind. It is unguarded, but it is a child’s mind. They are fickle and dangerous labyrinths. He must tread carefully.

Albus sees so many dangerous things. Tom does not suspect. Albus is ready to hate this boy, this bully (alike the bullies who have hurt his Ariana), but he remembers Salazar Slytherin’s words echoing in his mind how children do not have moral qualms about doing what is necessary to survive. Adults should not judge children harshly for their actions. They must help them grow to be better.

It is with this heavy heart and the fond, heart-breaking memories of his mentor and surrogate father that Albus allows to dwell within his heart, that Albus asks Tom what he expects is going on between them.

’’You’re a doctor, you are.’’ He sneers, but he also curls into himself and tries to look away – to look for how he can run away. Albus clasps his hands across his lap as he sits in a chair and watches the boy. ’’I know you’re ’ere to take me away to some different place. I won’t go.’’ Tom’s voice surges. ’’You can’t make me!’’

’’I am not a doctor, Tom. I am a professor for a school full of people like you.’’

People like you seems to be the wrong thing to say because Tom has understood this to mean ’asylum’ and he refuses to go back. Albus sees the boy shaking and when he tries to go fetch him, the boy withdraws and fixes him with a merciless glare. His magic attacks him and he, being much older and more trained than an eleven year old child, easily deflects the attack. It is trained magic. Refined. This is no accident. This boy has practiced aiming his magic at people.

Albus remembers the memories and he does not need to ask young Tom what he is capable of. It is all laid in front of him. The boy pants, however, and attempts to flee the room – but Albus spells the door shut and just like a light switch goes off in Tom’s head, he slowly but surely calms. He must have been told about appearing normal multiple times. That matron doesn’t look like the type to tolerate hysterics.

’’Wot do you want?’’ Tom slowly asks. He is trying to stop himself from shouting. This is how he’s been told to behave around adults. Now he’s trapped and cannot run.

Albus begins to explain about Hogwarts. He is listened to because he shows Tom magic. And Tom Riddle is afraid of him, Albus can tell. He moves his wand and unlocks the door, swinging it open just a tad to let Tom know he has a way out. His shoulders are tense the entire conversation, but he does answer Albus’ questions diligently. Albus remembers Gellert and wonders why he doesn’t hate muggles still when they can do something to terrible to a child?

Children, Albus has come to realise, suffer the most because no one is there to protect them. No one has protected his Ariana and no one has protected this boy in front of him. He has a defiant look about him. A troublemaker when all of the pretences get peeled off rests inside of him. But, Albus is willing to give the boy a fresh start.

Especially when he learns he is a parselmouth.

* * *

Horace is a welcome distraction to the world bombarding Albus through radio or print how Gellert is gaining attention. His deft, potion brewer fingers card through Albus’ hair and Albus finds himself drifting off to sleep more easily while having someone by his side.

’’Us Slytherins have to stick together.’’ The potioneer chortles. Albus finds himself smiling sadly.

‘’We do indeed.’’

* * *

Gellert visits summer of 1938. He isn’t here for Albus and this is the most worrying part. His eyes are set on Ariana. There is hunger in his eyes, mad as they are; Seer magic is located in the eyes and he **is** a Seer, Albus does know this.

’’Ariana,’’ Gellert endears himself to her because she has always loved him like her first friend, ’’dear, dear Ana. Would you like to see the world with me?’’

Aberforth has been transformed into a small dish rag and thrown out into the trash. He is not here to tell Ariana how Gellert whispers sweet nothings and promises beautiful things, but does not realise them.

Albus attempts to forbid this from going on. ’’He is dangerous, Ariana. Gellert has killed so many people.’’

’’Muggles.’’

Ariana has been attacked by muggles. She does not mind violence against them, not really.

That correction is both an admission of guilt and an addition to Ariana’s love for him. She is an adult. She has not had many opportunities to travel. Apparating isn’t something she can do. If she travels for long she gets tired. Neither Aberforth nor Albus have had much time to show her around.

Gellert continues talking to her about how the world functions outside of her brothers’ influence. ’’I’ve gotten every one of your letters. Albus does not want to change the world with me. He thinks muggles should be equal to us. Animals, Ariana.’’ The worst part of it is how sincere he sounds. How honest he truly is when he says: ’’Those animals don’t deserve to eat the dirt we walk on. Let me take you to see the world. I have become a very important man.’’

When Albus tries to intervene and speak of how much ill Gellert has done, his sister begins to panic. Her magic builds the more they shout at each other. Albus can’t remember the last time he’s ever been this angry. He will not have his sister taken from him and Aberforth. Not by Gellert who only wants to use her as a weapon. Never.

But Ariana’s magic destroys the house they’ve called home since selling their family home. And Albus takes cover like a coward who values his life, Aberforth is at a well enough distance not to be disturbed by Ariana’s magical lash-out – all of this leaves Gellert bloody Grindelwald bold and brave enough to fight through Ariana’s magic and comfort her through her episode. He fights onward, deflecting her magic left and right, until he can take a hold of Ariana through the swirling maelstrom of her own fear and panic. Perhaps Albus is wrong, perhaps Gellert truly cares for Ariana when he hugs her and tells her that he isn’t afraid of her like her brothers are – that he will show her the whole world and not hide her away like they have – that he will introduce her to so many interesting people from all across the world and not bore her with drunken men that come to Aberforth’s pub – but Albus is willing to stake his life that it is all manipulation.

After this poor showing – Ariana does leave. She feels like she cannot stay with them any longer. Gellert blows Albus a kiss as he leaves with their sister. Aberforth transforms back into a person when Gellert’s far enough – and he flings himself at Albus, telling him that he has sent their sister to her death.

’’You didn’t even do anything!’’ he shouts and screams with abandon, beating Albus with heavy, laden fists. ’’How could you let him take her? YOU CALLOUS PIECE OF FUCKING SHITE!’’

* * *

The boy gets sorted to Slytherin. It’s quite expected, really.

With a muggle name like Riddle – it’s also expected to see him get bullied.

Albus has warned him that the rules are different now. He cannot hurt another with magic else he will have to deal with him personally.

The boy excels. It reminds him of Albus himself and he is filled with self-loathing.

Ariana sends letters. She is having fun. Aberforth claims she’s been imperiused. Albus doubts that is necessary. Merely listening to Gellert’s words is enough to put them under a spell, without any magic being involved.

With the ability to speak to snakes, Albus thinks that the boy will go far in Slytherin.

He is right, of course. Sometimes Albus wishes he is less smart and self-aware of people than he is. It is easier living in blissful ignorance. Like that dim-witted Malfoy boy, really. His essays are the worst in the whole year, Albus swears.

Horace tells him that he sees his prodigal student studying until the wee hours with the Malfoy boy in the Slytherin Common Room after everyone’s gone to sleep.

’’They make quite the odd couple.’’ Horace chortles. Albus smiles at the sound. He like show Horace laughs and he quite enjoys that moustache of his. It tickles quite nicely. Compared to Gellert, Horace is a lovely, lovely man. Albus feels like he deserves lovely.

’’Who?’’ Albus has been taken off guard. He has been caught staring! Horace’s smile widens.

’’Young Malfoy and Riddle.’’

’’Ah.’’ Albus nods. He hasn’t gotten anything else to give as a reaction. ’’Malfoy probably pays the boy for his hours. Tom Riddle is an orphan.’’

Horace rolls his eyes. He waves this idea off. ’’Tosh, Albus, they’re friends. Abraxas has stood up for him against Walburga’s cruel teasing while Tom helps him write his essays. Letters don’t come easily to that boy.’’

Albus, yet again, truly doesn’t know what to do with people’s optimism. He shrugs his shoulders next. He doesn’t dare to go inside the Slytherin Common Room because Salazar is there and doesn’t remember him.

’’Did the boy speak with Slytherin?’’

’’Not that I have seen him.’’ Horace answers. His brows are furrowed. ’’You spend so much of your time ruminating. I am sorry for your loss, but you must move forward.’’

’’He isn’t dead. He just can’t remember any language other than parseltongue.’’

’’I think he still knows old Gaelic.’’ Slughorn adds, unhelpfully.

Albus rolls his eyes. Horace kisses him.

* * *

Aberforth does not speak to him. Hog’s Head has been rebuilt. A couple of patrons have come by and offered money to help. Ariana is dead, the story goes. Sickly little thing. Such a shame. Aberforth and Albus decide between each other not to speak of Gellert’s presence. Nobody has seen him. He has moved like mist and taken Ariana from them like a thief in the night.

No, Albus must come to terms with this: Ariana has chosen to go with him because she feels like Abe and he have stifled her. Perhaps they have. Aberforth doesn’t want to speak of Ariana.

Ariana sends letters. Gellert takes good care of her, it appears. She loves it in France and in Hungary and all across Europe, really.

Both brothers, even though they may not be speaking, keep an ear out for any rumour of outlandish magical attacks. They are in war. Their sister is a weapon and maybe, just maybe – and none of them want to believe in this – she is okay with it.

* * *

Tom Riddle grows.

Ariana’s letters peter out.

The war carries on.

* * *

It is most unfortunate for Tom Riddle, Albus thinks, that he hates him. This hatred is akin to a jealous child whose parental attention has been overturned by a younger, newer model. So to speak.

Albus summons enough strength to visit the Slytherin Common Room after near decades since Slytherin has stopped speaking to him; since the portrait has forgotten him altogether. He finds a sight there that makes his blood boil. It is expected, but to see it and realise that Slytherin is there, still – and can bestow wisdom and witty remarks – but cannot speak to Albus anymore. This is too much for him.

Tom Riddle hisses. When he speaks the tongue of snakes it is with wariness. It is remembering each time he has been beaten for it. Slytherin seems to understand this because his eyes harden, but his words – the way he spins them now with someone who understands – they are soft and encouraging. The two parselmouths speak for about an hour without getting tired. What they speak about, Albus doesn’t know. He forces himself to leave before his rage over his incompetence, his sister’s leaving, and Tom Riddle’s natural excellence pushes him to do something he truly shouldn’t do.

He goes to find Horace. Aberforth shan’t speak to him. Ariana’s letters, he assumes with good right, are being read and he does not want Gellert to catch whiff of Albus’ shakiness. No, Horace is his only friend and companion.

Horace is brewing felix felicis as they talk into the wee hours of the morning. ‘’I slept in the afternoon,’’ he explains, ‘’so I’d be awake to brew it properly. If you feel tired, please, do have a lie in on my bed. I shall not speak of it.’’

Albus takes him up on the offer. He wakes, a few hours later, to find Horace’s body nestled against his. The warmth of such companionship helps Albus fall back asleep. His dreams are plagued with nightmares. Tactfully, Horace doesn’t tell him if he has overheard them. Albus hopes he has not. It will not be a good idea to scream another man’s name in Horace’s company.

* * *

Dippet tries to play matchmaker and set Albus up with his great-granddaughter. ‘’She’s around eighty-three.’’ He says. ‘’About your age I reckon.’’

Albus smiles and says that he is not looking to break any hearts. ‘’I am a serial womanizer, kind sir. I could never do something like that to a lady.’’

Dippet finds this adequate enough as an explanation.

Albus doesn’t know if he has ever meet a blinder man than Armando Dippet.

* * *

‘’A **_serial_** womanizer?’’ Horace laughs until there are tears Albus kisses away. ‘’What an imagination you have!’’

‘’Hush.’’ Albus admonishes with a smile. This one is not sad. In these trysts he feels whole and wonderful. Horace manages to bring out the best in him. He is the one with the imagination, truly, because Albus would never think to have sex on the Astronomy tower. He trails kisses down Horace’s neck. Horace sounds not that particularly interested. ‘’Is there anything wrong?’’

‘’Hm, no no.’’ Horace says and kisses him to dispel any doubts. ‘’It is simply that I am quite concerned about a couple of my students.’’

‘’Pardon?’’

‘’Oh yes, they’re entangled over there and I don’t know what the protocol is.’’

Albus turns to where Horace points and sure enough – from so high-above he can see that Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy are, indeed, entangled. On the edge of the Forest, too. He finds himself commenting: ‘’They should not be so close to that Forest. It is dangerous. Someone ought to make it Forbidden.’’ He will bring this up with Dippet. For now, he turns away and tells Horace to turn away, as well.

Horace does, but he is shocked. It wears off soon enough. ‘’I suppose I’ll talk to them.’’

‘’It will mortify them.’’

‘’It is best one of us talks to them rather than Dippet.’’

‘’He might think they are just being friendly.’’ Albus snorts.

Horace has to concede that possibility. ‘’He is truly blind.’’

‘’The man is over four hundred years old. When I told him I am in my sixties he began calling me **_boy_**.’’

‘’How fancy.’’ Horace says. His mind is elsewhere. He keeps thinking about what to say to Riddle and Malfoy. ‘’I need to tell them something before someone else does. Look at them! They haven’t a clue how to behave.’’

Albus glances back towards the frightful sight of young love. He sees Abraxas Malfoy and thinks that the blond boy looks an awful lot like Gellert did when he taught him how to love a man. Oh no. Albus closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. It is with a heavy heart and a burdened mind that Albus realises why he detests brilliant, troubled Tom Riddle so much: he is _projecting_.

‘’Let us leave, at once.’’ Albus and Horace decide that they ought to go to Horace’s personal quarters to continue their business.

When they see Riddle and Malfoy afterwards, Slughorn is the one that gives them a firm talking to about discretion. Albus notices how pale Malfoy is (he truly didn’t think they could go that pale, really) while Riddle is quiet and mortified. His ears are quite red.

‘’I,’’ Albus catches Tom speak – his voice is hysteric, almost, ‘’sir, we – I mean to say.’’

‘’You shan’t report him.’’ Abraxas almost takes out his wand to threaten Slughorn, whose intentions are not so foul at all. ‘’Hogwarts has never seen a brighter mind than Tom’s and if you wish to punish anyone it will be me.’’

Slughorn is so touched by this dramatic, albeit unnecessary expression of love. Albus truly forgets what a sappy romantic his Horace is. He hugs the two boys and tells them that he is so proud of them both. ‘’My precious boys!’’

Tom, somehow, looks even further mortified. For a brief, fleeting moment that expression reminds Albus of the one Slytherin has made on an occasion. It is remarkable. It is devastating.

* * *

Horace worries. Albus asks him why he is quieter than usual. He doesn’t dare tell him. ‘’I’ve made a mistake.’’ His voice oozes with haunting horror.

* * *

A child is petrified. Of course, Albus notes, it is muggleborn.

* * *

Before Albus can even think of attempting to get to the bottom of the serial attacks, he gets news that cut him in half.

**_Ariana dies._ **

Gellert has enough nerve to write a letter of condolences.

Her body cannot be salvaged. Neither can the bloody village Gellert had her magic destroy, either. He claims it is an accident and that dear Ana’s death has rattled him.

Aberforth summons him to the rebuilt Hog’s Head and tells him that they must seek revenge. ‘’Do what is right.’’ He tells Albus. ‘’You must atone for this. Kill him and help Ariana. She,’’ his voice breaks, ‘’must have suffered.’’

And she truly must have. Albus knows this. He does not know, however, if he can bring himself to kill another person. So, he tells Aberforth that he will stay out of this. ‘’I wish to grieve in peace, Abe.’’

‘’No,’’ Aberforth does not grieve in peace, he shakes his head and wishes to tear the world apart for hurting his family, ‘’you’re a coward.’’

‘’And you’re exactly like father!’’ Albus shouts. He strains as he says this. ‘’You cannot just charge head first! You’ll wind up dead!’’

Ariana is dead. She isn’t there to stop them from duelling.

Albus wins that duel and remembers that he is adept at duelling, but this fills him with dread and not pride. His lungs constrict and he can barely breathe. All of this feels wrong. Aberforth’s whimpers fill the room and Albus slowly pushes himself to go back to Hogwarts. It is welcome, the walk. For the first time he finds that the anti-apparating magic is not inconvenient. On the way to his home he cries, as well.

* * *

In an attempt to go through less-crowded corridors, Albus happens to walk past a girl’s lavatory. Abraxas Malfoy is hurriedly saying things, half in French, half in English. He seems to be carrying a young man that Albus truly wishes he doesn’t see after all of this. Tom Riddle hisses in parseltongue and can’t find his voice. His face is drenched with sweat and his features are transformed by pain. He is clawing at his own clothes and screaming until Abraxas spells him silent. ‘’Hush, hush, Tom. S’il t – please. Please, hush. I’m here. How – why – oh no. I cannot take you to the Infirmary – hush.’’

Albus is shaking as he approaches them. From this angle he sees a small, lifeless body of a girl. He substitutes her features for Ariana’s and shouts.

* * *

What happens next, Albus does not call his proudest moment. He does not call it a moment worth remembering, at all. No, he is twisted by his feelings and the events that have turned his world upside down. Still, even though he wants to turn back time and redo this moment, he knows that he cannot. And he knows that he has crossed a line that should never have been crossed.

Tom Riddle screams with such raw agony that only the cruciatus curse can bring out of a human being. He thrashes while Abraxas holds him and when the blonde boy tries to wield his wand to put a stop to this – Albus spins around like mad and hits the boy with a knockback jinx that has him tumble down on the floor, wandless.

The currant colour of the cruciatus curse is by far the most memorable colour Albus has ever seen. He is nauseous with grief and loathing when the curse lifts. It seems that his morals have finally caught up with him because he does not mean to hurt the boy any longer. Which boy, he wonders as he gazes at the twitching, pained boy down in front of him. Does he see Gellert in him now or himself? Or does he hate Tom Riddle?

Albus’ head spins. He knows that these two boys cannot do anything to him in the state that they find themselves in. The young girl’s body shifts in front of his eyes (eyes that are blinded with tears) and he still sees Ariana. Not whoever this child is – he notes her Ravenclaw robes and wonders what house his Ariana would be had she been capable of attending?

Abraxas moves towards Tom and it is with such uncomfortably honest love that they lean into each other’s forms. Albus is disgusted with himself. He runs before he can ask a single thing, knowing fully well that they cannot tell what has happened here without facing serious repercussions for their own misdeeds.

* * *

All three of them have a bloody weekend to sort themselves out.

* * *

When they meet in class, Tom Riddle doesn’t sit in the front row anymore. Neither does Abraxas really. They evict poor Nobby Leach from the last row and sit there, as far away from Dumbledore’s vicinity. He doesn’t call on them. In fact, he is quite terrified to speak to the two boys. Not in fear of them speaking out about the incident to someone, but because he will be reminded of the incident when they do actually address it. And they must. Albus cannot live with himself if they don’t.

He tells Abraxas and Tom to stay behind when class finishes. They are in their OWL year and he says that he is concerned about their performance so far. Nobby Leach actually looks flabbergasted at hearing such a thing. He looks at Tom Riddle and shakes his head, muttering on about how Tom’s brilliant.

Tom and Abraxas stay back.

‘’I would like to apologize to you, Mr Riddle.’’ Albus sighs with great, terrible anguish. ‘’I cannot begin to imagine what you must think of me.’’

‘’I rather think,’’ Abraxas says instead, the more hot-blooded one of the pair, ‘’that you have finally shown your true colours to us.’’ He doesn’t add sir or professor like he might have previously. No, there is pure hatred in his silver eyes. Almost, Albus can sense, Abraxas may take up his wand and fire off foul spells at him. Tom disallows him. He says that they will not speak of this incident. His tone is measured, but he still sounds like someone does after screaming for such a long, painful while. It has taken him the whole weekend to cope with the dark ritual and the unforgivable curse lodged deep inside of his magic. His pallor shows a difficult tale.

‘’We have conditions for our silence.’’

Albus has expected this. He has his own condition. It has come to him in a dream on Saturday evening while he, too, has been eaten by guilt and aimlessness. He needs someone to help him through this. Someone to confide in. He knows just the portrait.

Their conditions leave Albus feeling short-changed.

All three agree that Rubeus Hagrid has the least ability to come out of this situation. Nobody will blink at a half-giant getting expelled.

‘’Who told you about the ritual?’’ Albus asks Tom one evening as he catches him returning from the library. Abraxas is at quidditch practice.

Tom says that he will not reveal this person.

‘’Come along then.’’ Albus nods, though he can take a guess and be correct. There are few people who have stopped speaking to him as honestly, as often. One of them is Horace. It feels like a betrayal.

They go to the Slytherin Common Room. Both bow and greet Salazar Slytherin.

The rest of the students are out and about. Albus has checked to make sure to have Tom translate on the least busy night.

Slytherin looks at Tom fondly and hisses. Tom hisses back and introduces Albus Dumbledore. How wrong does it feel to have to introduce himself to a man that has known him for years? It strangles Albus. Tom is there, however, to mend the path with his tongue and soulless existence.

_‘’What troubles my young snakes?’’_

‘’He asks what troubles you?’’

‘’You must not repeat a word of this to anyone, Tom Riddle.’’

‘’I shall not. I know what you are capable of when angry, sir.’’

Albus winces, as if slapped.

Slytherin peers at him intently. _‘’Is he my young snake?’’_

 _‘’Yes.’’_ Tom answers. _‘’He is one of us.’’_

Slytherin tells them to get this conversation moving. He says that he has not got all night to stand about staring at them and waiting for them to man up and speak. What he means here is that when the night ends he is left with all day to stand about staring at them and waiting. Slytherin is a man of puns.

Albus tells him of Grindelwald. He watches the portrait’s reaction as Tom translates (the boy, at this point, is quite taken aback of this sorry tale of two powerful men and a sister that has been killed with her own magic)

Slytherin listens carefully. He nods along at the proper times. But there is something in his eyes that makes Albus hopeful, but also very, very terrified.

_‘’What about the goat fucker? Is he dead?’’_

Tom blinks at this. Albus tells him to translate. When Tom does, Albus feels incredibly odd. Salazar Slytherin remembers Aberforth from Albus’ stories, but not Albus himself. Vaguely, Slytherin explains, he knows that he has seen him – but not that he should know him. Then he asks if they are friends? Then he speaks about how much he misses Helga. A little while later Tom translates about Slytherin’s fear of fairies.

Albus tells Tom to get them back on track. Somehow he manages the task and Slytherin tells him that this is a matter of blood revenge. _‘’Kill him or kill his sister. It matters not.’’_

This callousness is not what Albus has expected. He remembers a conversation as a young man when Slytherin has told him he has killed at fourteen. Perhaps he has said the same to Tom and urged him to go through with this ritual. Muggleborns are almost like muggles in Slytherin’s eyes, aren’t they?

‘’How can you say that?’’

_‘’Young snake, you do not choose this. When your family is in danger you must protect it and if your family is dead you must ensure that no other family is hurt the same way. Kill him.’’_

Albus tells Tom that he has mistranslated. The boy takes offence to this. His eyes glow red, ever so faintly. Albus remembers, then, that he is speaking to a murderer. A decorated and awarded murderer whom the school has officially thanked for his services. Albus is peering through the looking glass, for goodness’ sake.

 _‘’Tell him, hatchling mine, to kill him in my name if he is so scared of tarnishing his own.’’_ Slytherin offers a solution. He finds this all nonsense, of course, because to him taking a life is not that difficult if done for the right reasons.

Tom translates.

Albus is left with even more questions, but soon students will begin waking up and mingling. They must leave this for another day, then.

He thanks Tom Riddle for his translating work.

Tom shrugs and says that there is no need to thank him. ‘’It is a part of my duty towards you, sir.’’

Albus wishes to apologize once more, but Tom will not hear of it. ‘’You have compromised yourself far more than I have.’’ He tells him. ‘’I have gained what I have always wanted and you have gained back your precious father.’’ Then, the orphan in him says, ‘’It is Slytherin who has told me where to find the Chamber. As far as role models go, sir, you have picked the one who does not mind bloodshed. The way you shirk away from responsibility, one would think you are a Gryffindor.’’

Aberforth springs to mind. He is more responsible. But he is weaker.

‘’You would kill him.’’ Albus asks.

‘’Half the world would kill him if they could get him alone.’’ Tom says.

They part ways. Albus, more out of guilt than knowledge that all of Tom Riddle’s essays are perfection – gives the poor sod maximum points. One time, though, he does catch Tom snickering. He decides to read the essays after noting that the boy has written out a meat pie recipe once. It is most disturbing to know with what nonchalance Tom provokes him.

* * *

Summer passes.

Tom Riddle’s eyes are redder. He is seen meandering about Slytherin’s portrait more.

Albus notes with horror that the boy has occlumency shields as sturdy as Hogwarts’ wards.

When they speak of murder, Tom Riddle tells him: ‘’It is like any skill, I imagine. All it takes is practice.’’

Not knowing what the boy is thinking fills him with peril.

‘’What is it like having a father?’’ Tom asks him.

Albus has not expected such a human question, such a childish and scared question. ‘’It was well until he went to Azkaban and died there.’’

Tom nods. ‘’Do you think he did it out of love?’’

‘’Yes.’’

‘’Then kill him out of love.’’ Tom says. ‘’It is the power you speak highly of, is it not?’’

Albus clasps his hands into fists and tells the boy that love cannot be perverted by hatred so. Love cannot be used for such evil and macabre means.

Tom turns the radio on in Albus’ room. Publically he has taken a deep fascination with Transfiguration. This is how he can explain if Tom is seen with him. Perhaps, if they wish to continue with this farce, Albus ought to take the boy on as an apprentice.

‘’Mothers have killed for their children. Brothers have killed for their sisters. Love is a motivator, not some holy spirit that tells you how you ought to know better.’’ Tom raises his hands in the air and continues speaking, felling like the adult in the room. ‘’Are you even aware of how many people have been killed mercilessly in this war? It goes on, sir.’’ The boy’s eyes are red in this light. He is the devil his mother has told him about, Christian woman that she is.

‘’You cannot understand what burden I have on my shoulders. You are a child.’’

‘’I am going to be seventeen in a _month_.’’ Now the devil morphs back into a petulant child.

Albus and Horace do not speak. They both know that they have erred, but they cannot bring themselves to talk it through. Perhaps they will once Abraxas and Tom leave Hogwarts.

Abraxas Malfoy is fiercely loyal to Tom Riddle. It is unexpected. But wholly wonderful to witness. Not many people exist like that.

Albus remarks on an occasion. ‘’How loyal you are; you would make even Helga Hufflepuff baffled by such a showing.’’

Abraxas sheepishly admits, then, that he is in Slytherin because of his family’s reputation only. ‘’I asked to be put there for the sake of my family.’’

‘’Hat didn’t give me a choice.’’

‘’You are related to Slytherin, Tom. I reckon a choice isn’t something you’d get with such a thing on your record.’’

Tom sighs, but it is not out of annoyance. He smiles fondly at Abraxas. Finding out that Albus has been involved with Gellert has made him less guarded around Albus about his relationship with Abraxas. It does please Albus to know at least that he can be trusted in that regard.

‘’I’d kill him.’’ Abraxas says.

Albus looks at Tom as a reprimand.

‘’In every healthy relationship there can be no secrets.’’

‘’You are **_children_**.’’ Albus doesn’t appreciate how Tom and Abraxas speak as if they’ve been married for decades. ‘’What the bloody hell do you even know about such things?’’

‘’Apparently a load more than you.’’ Abraxas antagonizes. Tom shushes him.

Albus gives up.

* * *

Slytherin forgets Tom next and has to be reminded of who he is.

‘’He calls me Quill Gaunt.’’ Tom sighs. ‘’One of his great great grandchildren.’’

Albus nods. It is a pity what keeps happening to Slytherin.

It still confuses the daylights out of them all how Slytherin remembers Aberforth as a goat fucker. He needs no re-introduction.

‘’I’m truly offended.’’ Albus says. Tom nods in agreement.

* * *

Feeling pressured to go through with this, Albus sends a letter to Gellert. It is the most humiliating thing he has ever done.

‘’Maybe you should sound like you want to fuck?’’ Tom is seventeen and an adult and therefore is allowed to speak up on this matter. He has read the letter and feels underwhelmed. ‘’This doesn’t make me leave all of my warlord responsibilities. Now, the chance to fuck my old flame might.’’

Albus is mortified. But he needs to go through with this, doesn’t he? He must put a stop to this war one way or another. Maybe he will not kill him.

He just needs to smoke the man out of his stronghold and have him come here. ‘’What if I say I will join him?’’

‘’Yes, add that on there. It sounds like a Jane Austen novel, proper.’’ Tom Riddle has read a lot of muggle books, Albus finds out. He says that the mage fiction books are utter rubbish. Albus directs his attention to Russian literature next. ‘’I feel Dostoyevski would suit you.’’

‘’I have read Crime and Punishment, sir. Perhaps you should brush up on the material for when we ultimately get quizzed by St. Peter about our many, many crimes. Lucky you, I think that the Jewish will reward you for your troubles when you kill Grindelwald. I think Jewish heaven ought to be nice.’’

‘’It’s a bit more complicated than that from my understanding.’’ Abraxas Malfoy tells them. His maternal grandfather is Jewish. He’s really the biggest authority on this matter that they have. Which isn’t that credible, really.

For a good few minutes they talk about religion and avoid looking at the poor love letter Albus is still writing.

* * *

It proves to be effective enough because he summons Gellert to the Island.

Their duel is legendary. Albus hates every waking minute of it. Gellert tries to sway him not to go through with this. His eyes are faded and the rumours of his Seer abilities taking from his sight must be true. This is the only way Albus can explain how Gellert has not seen the cutting hex on time. He spins in an attempt to flee its might, but it cuts through his heart and the Dark Lord falls to his death.

Right after this, Albus collapses from his own injuries. He lives.

Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy come and visit him in St. Mungo’s.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore is celebrated.

Tom Riddle decides to travel with Abraxas Malfoy after Hogwarts.

Horace Slughorn clears the air.

They forgive each other.

* * *

Decades later Galatea Merrythought says that she will have Tom Riddle as her replacement or no one at all.

By this point Tom Riddle is no more.

Albus wants to decline and send him back, but Voldemort says: ‘’I’ll translate for you.’’

‘’There is truly one use for you.’’ Albus hates how he has become dependent on Riddle’s mere existence. They keep silent on the incident, still.

Abraxas is marrying a woman and having a child. Albus understands why Voldemort wishes to come away to Hogwarts. He is giving Lady Malfoy a chance to truly bond with her husband.

The portrait of Salazar Slytherin needs to be reminded who they are. Once this is done and Slytherin has asked after the goat-fucker, he greets both Voldemort and Albus pleasantly, with a warm smile: _‘’My Young Snakes, I hope you are well.’’_

Voldemort and Albus look at each other and say that they’re doing all right, when everything is considered. _‘’Can’t complain,’’_ is the official answer they give Slytherin.

The Portrait looks the happiest anyone has seen him. Then, momentarily, his happiness falls away and makes room for fear: _‘’BEWARE OF THE FAIR FOLK!’’_

Voldemort and Albus both nod and say that they will keep a watchful eye. _‘’No one will attack our school, esteemed Slytherin. Fret not.’’_

 _‘’You are so incompetent how can I NOT fret?’’_ Slytherin screams.

Voldemort looks at Albus. ‘’He is very difficult.’’

‘’It must be hereditary.’’

‘’Yes. How does that explain _you_ , precisely?’’ Voldemort parries.

Albus scoffs, good-naturedly. ‘’Nurture over nature, no?’’

‘’Tsk tsk, you easily change your answers I see.’’ Voldemort admonishes.

They bid Slytherin farewell and tell him that they will watch out for fairies, but for now they must watch out for the students. It feels marvellous to be able to say such a thing. For the first time, neither Albus nor Voldemort have any burden weighing them down.

* * *

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter will be an epilogue of sorts with the fairies and the gen of severus and draco malfoy


	3. Epilogue

It is with great tenacity that Severus Snape goes up to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and tells him: ’’You look like you can be taught sign language.’’

His father is deaf is the only explanation Severus offers when people ask him if he’s out of his mind and how does he even know sign language.

Lucius tells Severus that that portrait has gone barmy. Severus shrugs and says that if he’s gone barmy then he’s gone barmy. But he’ll still give it his best try.

Professor Voldemort learns it first so he can translate. He is quite surprised with Severus’ project. ’’You are a very stubborn boy.’’

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, is enthralled by this idea. Nobody believes that Severus can do it. It’s just an eleven year old trying to be fancy and important.

’’It can’t happen overnight.’’ Severus rolls his eyes.

True. It happens over the course of seven years.

Horace blinks openly, like a great owl that does not know what is going on.

Salazar Slytherin’s portrait gets touched up far more often now that a Slytherin is Headmaster. He doesn’t look precisely how he has all of those decades ago. The style of art has changed. The colours have been modernized, so to speak.

Tom Riddle is not a fan. ’’He looks a half off from a Dadaist’s wet dream.’’

’’Is he aware of his surroundings? He is. Mediaeval paintings don’t hold out for long.’’

’’The man has been a painting for centuries.’’

’’I am surprised that it is YOU who is advocating for Slytherin’s death.’’

The immortal of the pair breathes air through his nose how a dragon might. His eyes are growing redder, especially when angry. ’’Slytherin wants a dignified death. You have made him unrecognizable.’’

’’Just the background. To give him a little more vivre.’’ Albus gesticulates. ’’The painter didn’t touch upon the actual figure.’’

’’It is good that he did not. I could not handle seeing Slytheirn’s eyes on his ear!’’

’’Not a fan of Cubism, are you, Voldemort?’’ Albus pokes fun.

But still, it stands as fact that such a modern touch up has revived Slytherin far more than any touch up that has worried for artistic integrity.

Slytherin actually remembers how to do sign language. And really, when everyone gets down to it – isn’t that what’s most important? Art is terribly subjective, after all.

* * *

Horace leaves. He cannot teach anymore, but he still visits Albus.

Severus stays.

* * *

For a while everything is calm.

Then Luna Lovegood gets kidnapped in the dead of night and Voldemort goes to search her out. His locating charms point towards the Forest’ direction. Abraxas comes with him. He is of fairy blood and wants a little bit of fun.

Albus remembers what happens when these two get near the Forest and has to stifle a snort.

* * *

Meanwhile Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and a couple more Slytherins are attempting to move Salazar Slytherin’s portrait. ‘’How do we take it off the wall?’’

Draco signs at Slytherin and tells him that they will make his dying wish a reality.

By the time the late 90s roll up, Slytherin speaks of few things: fairies, his Young Snakes, muggles that killed his family, and how much he really, really misses Helga Hufflepuff and how he cannot forgive himself for being a coward and not telling her his feelings while alive.

Hermione, who has become a Slytherin solely because her role model Albus Dumbledore is one, has been moved to tears by this tale. As a seventh year she rallies her people to get to work and help Slytherin’s wish finally come true.

Susan Bones is their inside Puff.

They will make this trade off tonight, on Samhain when everyone is out mourning or celebrating in costumes.

Through intricate spellwork that all of the Seventh years pool together – they manage to take Slytherin’s portrait off. Next they carry him out all while keeping a vigil eye if anyone will find them out.

‘’Most of the staff is worried for Lovegood.’’

‘’God, what opportunists have we become?’’ Hermione bemoans. Her friends tell her to shut up and get a move on.

‘’They’ll find her. We’ve got work now.’’

* * *

Abraxas and Voldemort do find Lovegood.

And a bunch of fairies.

‘’Oh this is our land.’’ One of them says. ‘’You are trespassing, disband.’’

Voldemort has to explain that they have a school here. They nod. They understand. They don’t care. ‘’Your lease is over. Don’t make me turn you into a clover.’’

‘’No, no that’d be bad.’’ Abraxas pips up. They see his silver eyes and listen to him speak in free verse. ‘’We’re simply trying to see what will make you give us the student back.’’

Lovegood tells them that she’s quite fine. ‘’I came out to find them. The thousand years has passed and now they’re back on their ground.’’

Voldemort pinches the bridge of his nose. Slytherin’s fabled fairies. In parseltongue: _‘’What were the terms of your previous deal?’’_

_‘’A thousand years for a cake.’’_

Voldemort truly wonders if he’s misheard. He asks them to repeat in English. They do. Abraxas says that he fears he’s misheard. Voldemort knows that he hasn’t.

‘’A cake… for a thousand years of having Hogwarts here…’’

‘’Yes.’’ The fairies answer.

Voldemort sighs. ‘’How big is the cake?’’

They gesture to Lovegood. To be fair, that is a big cake.

‘’Another cake for another thousand years?’’

‘’We want two cakes for two thousand.’’

‘’Fair.’’

‘’Yes.’’

* * *

Voldemort returns with the fairies to bring them to the kitchen and have them specify to the elves what kind of cake they want. He spots Severus and Albus staring at him. He mouths: ‘’Slytherin’s fairies.’’ And both of them look like they never believed they were real.

* * *

Meanwhile Helga Hufflepuff smiles the brightest smile any Hufflepuff has ever seen. She welcomes Slytherin into her picture frame and tells him how happy she is to see him. They speak in Gaelic (a much older version than the one any of the students know off the top of their head) and they hold hands.

Hermione tears up again. ‘’It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.’’

As much as they hate to admit it, the rest of the Slytherins agree as they try to hide tears.

Slytherin turns to them and signs: _Thank you, my Young Snakes. Hogwarts is in good hands._

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know how to explain this fic :D


End file.
